Memories of Gold

by Ali Olson

  His thoughts turned, as they did so often, back to Maria. He had asked Guadalupe to help him get a message to her, but she said that the post would only stop in this area in a week. He realized that Maria likely believed he was dead, but for the time being, he had no way of informing her of the truth. His promise to her, when he had said he would never disappear again, had been broken and there was nothing he could do to fix it.

  He thought about her sad and alone, and wanted to reach across the miles to hold her, but it would take at least a few days for him to be well enough to get back to her. What would she do during that time? He knew she was certainly not the type to wallow in bed, crying for hours, but would she go back to work?

  He still felt a small ache at the thought of her being with other men, but it was now mostly a pain of sympathy. She would always do what she needed to survive, which was one thing he loved about her, but it also meant that she would hide her hurt and go on as she always had.

  He could not stand the thought of her in pain because of him and was absolutely determined to make it back as quickly as possible to her so he could set things right. He wanted to explain how much he loved her and show her that he would be there for her regardless of what she did for a living. What did that matter, after all?

  In fact, what did any of it matter? His position with the bank, San Francisco, the big house of his dreams? All of it paled in comparison with Maria. When he had fallen into the water, thinking he was going to die, it was her face he pictured. She was what he wanted, and nothing else mattered.

  Jimmy closed his eyes and balled up his fists in frustration, causing a small lightning bolt of pain through his hurt shoulder. He ignored it. This was all so stupid. The nearest town was fifteen miles away, according to Guadalupe, and any attempt at traversing that distance in his condition would likely end in disaster. She had no horse to lend him, so he was effectively stranded.

  He would need to wait until the post came through. Then he could get a ride to the nearest town and make his way back to Shasta. He would need to wait patiently until then. Jimmy sighed and adjusted himself slightly, ignoring the itch of his wound and trying unsuccessfully to doze.

  After what felt like days, he could hear Guadalupe moving around in the room behind him. He tried once again to shift himself on the couch, his makeshift bed, until he was sitting up. He found to his pleasure that, despite the barbs of pain in his shoulder and the necessity of moving his leg very gingerly to keep it from throbbing, he was able to make it to a sitting position with little trouble. He felt encouraged by the experiment, hoping that the worst was over.

  Jimmy took a quick inventory of his body. The terrible ache in his head, which was probably from hitting it during his fall, seemed to be mostly gone. His leg wasn’t overwhelmingly painful, though he could do little with it in the splint Guadalupe must have constructed before he regained consciousness. His shoulder, of course, was still a problem and sent sparks of pain through him whenever he moved too much. The itching had died down enough at the moment to not be what he would consider torture, though it was difficult to ignore.

  Overall, he was doing rather well considering the circumstances, and Jimmy felt some of his anxiety leave him. At the very least, he was sure he would be able to leave in a week with the mail coach and get back to Shasta, no matter how painful the trip would be.

  As he thought about the days left before he could go back to his life, Guadalupe came into the room and began working at the stove, lighting the chips of wood and putting water on to heat. As she began the work, he considered her, the woman who saved his life, and what he could possibly do to repay her. She had been so generous, and yet all he had really thought of since he awoke was how to get away as quickly as possible.

  Guadalupe looked over, and he nodded to her and wished her a good morning. She smiled and reciprocated, then asked, “How are you feeling today? Getting better?”

  “Yes, thank you, Guadalupe. Much better than I expected I would. You are a wonderful nurse.”

  She chuckled quietly. “I have a lot of practice.”

  He knitted his brows. “On whom? You’re too far from town to go around fixing people all the time.”

  “Not people. Animals. I have always had a soft spot for injured things, and I help them whenever I come across them.”

  “Well, it seems to work on humans, too. You’ve helped me a good deal, and I would like to repay you, if I can. Is there any way I can help you around here?”

  She laughed good-naturedly. “I do not think you are that strong yet. It will be difficult to stand with your leg hurt.”

  “Well,” he considered, “Is there anything I can do to help with the cooking without moving much? I don’t know how to do anything but fry eggs, boil water, and cook meat over a campfire, but I would like to do something.”

  She paused for a moment, thinking. Then she nodded and began gathering items. After a few minutes, she set a floured wooden board across his lap and dropped a ball of dough on it. “You can make the bread. If it hurts too much, you tell me and stop. And only use your one good hand. Do not hurt yourself more,” she finished, wagging her finger at him to show how serious she was.

  He smiled. “Right you are. I’ll make the bread,” he announced, happy to be doing something useful. It amused him that his grand task was something as silly as making bread.

  When he looked down at the dough, though, he realized that he had no idea how to accomplish this. He knew his mother had made bread all the time, but he’d never actually paid attention to the process. “Um, what exactly do I do?”

  She looked at him, shaking her head and smirking, and he tried to give her an endearing smile that let her know he honestly did want to help. “Like this,” she said as she leaned over him slightly, grabbed the ball of dough, and began kneading it with her hands. “You do this, and then we will let it sit so it can rise.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He began to knead the dough, struggling a little to find an effective way to do it with only one hand. After a few moments of difficulty, he found that pressing it flat with his knuckles and then folding it in on itself worked well, and he continued to work until Guadalupe finished putting eggs in the water on the stove and started hot cakes for breakfast.

  She came over to inspect his progress. “Very good, Jimmy. Now we let it sit.”

  She took the board off his lap and put it on the table. After putting a square of cloth over the ball of dough, she turned back to the stove.

  “What next?”

  “Now, you wait. I will finish the food, and then we can eat.”

  Jimmy felt restless and wanted to contribute more, if only to occupy his agitated mind, but he knew there was nothing helpful he could do at the moment as she worked above the small stove. With one nearly-useless arm and a leg in a splint, there was little he would be able to do for a while, he realized. It was a frustrating thought.

  She took the hotcakes and eggs off the stove and began bringing a plate to where he was half-sitting. He held up his good arm to stop her. “If you don’t mind, I would like to try to eat with you at the table.”

  She looked at him for a moment, giving him a half-smile. “Men need to be strong and healthy even after bullets and rivers, is that it?”

  He laughed. “That pretty much sums it up. I can’t lie here any longer and have you serve me.”

  She submitted to his request and placed the food on the table. Slowly, Jimmy sat himself up completely, ignoring the pains that the movements caused, and moved his good leg off the edge of his makeshift bed. With his good hand, he carefully lowered his splinted leg to the floor as well.

  He paused, happy to finally be upright again. Guadalupe walked over and leaned close, allowing him to wrap his right arm around her shoulders, and in one heave of pain, he was standing, his weight on his good leg. He smiled at her, though there was an edge of a grimace to it as the ache ran through him before it began to die down.

  When he tried to put his weight onto
his splinted leg, however, he realized for the first time how badly it was hurt. While he was prone on the makeshift bed, the pain in his shoulder had dominated his thoughts and he had spent very little time thinking about the injury to his leg. Now, however, he could tell that it was seriously damaged. It would be a very long time before it healed completely and he had full use of it again.

  Leaning on Guadalupe, Jimmy was able to hop and shuffle his way to the table, where he sat down gingerly, careful to move his injured leg as little as possible. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but was glad to know that it was manageable. He took a deep breath and let his body rest.

  Once he was sitting in the chair and she was sure he was steady, Guadalupe moved over to her seat and they both began to eat. The food had cooled somewhat in the time it took for Jimmy to get settled, but he was happy to no longer feel completely helpless.

  They looked across the table and smiled at each other.

  Chapter 10

  Maria wiped away the tears that had sprung into her eyes once again. She told herself for the hundredth time that she could not sit and bemoan her losses, and she continued her circuit of the general store. The candy jars had brought back thoughts of her childhood, how she and Jimmy would both scrounge and beg their parents for pennies, and every one was spent on licorice and other treats.

  So many of her old memories were tied up with Jimmy that it was hard to go anywhere in town without thinking of him, and she was constantly forcing tiny stray thoughts and images from transforming into recollections of Jimmy from the past few days. They seemed to appear of their own will, unwanted and unbidden—his hair, his eyes and the crinkles around them when he smiled, the sound of his voice, a million other little things. They were all too fresh in her mind.

  But there was no time to dwell on all that, and she clenched her jaw and forced herself to think about the Jimmy-less present and the tasks at hand. She had already spoken to Mrs. Harper and had arranged to pick up Emma in the morning, gone to the bank for her savings—an especially difficult chore, both because most of it was shut down, making the process excruciatingly slow, and because the employees were still talking about the robbery and death of the manager—and now she was getting the last few things ordered and packaged that she would like to take with her.

  She still was unsure exactly what she would do once she got to Redding , but she had decided to be optimistic and hope she would be able to find a small unwanted home to let or purchase quickly. It was a big town. She wouldn’t allow her mind to worry about the what-ifs. After all, what other option was there if she wanted to get out of Shasta?

  She didn’t even really want to stay another night in town; nearly everything about the place sent sickening feelings through her stomach as memory after painful memory came back.

  One last night to get everything packed up on Mr. Swenson’s cart, and then she and Emma would be leaving in the morning on the coach. Maria had decided to have Josie and Alice come down a few days after her so she’d have just time enough to find a home before they arrived.

  Poor Josie. Another weight that pressed down upon Maria’s soul, despite Josie’s calm attitude toward the situation. In fact, Josie seemed perfectly content. She was staying with the family who had taken care of Alice for so long, and seemed in no rush to do anything but tend to her daughter. She didn’t want to lose her friend, but Josie’s equanimity was helping her accept the fact.

  Maria turned her mind back to the task at hand. It was evening, she had finished her final purchases, but she had no answer as to where to stay the night. Her room above the saloon was out of the question, and she hated to go back to the Swensons and ask them for more favors.

  She made a decision that she knew would be painful, but felt necessary. She went to Jimmy’s boarding house.

  At the door, the boardinghouse woman whose name Maria couldn’t remember greeted her with a proper nod, but seemed a little hesitant regarding the young woman’s reappearance. Maria explained that she wanted to stay in Jimmy’s room for the night and the woman put her hands on her hips and shook her head with conviction. “Oh, no Miss. That is not allowed. I don’t run that kind of house.”

  She recognized Maria, that much was clear. Maria was impressed that the lady had given no indication of it the morning before when they first met, though Maria had been quite distraught and could have missed the telltale clues. She didn’t want to think about that time, which seemed so long ago despite fewer than forty-eight hours having passed since. “You don’t understand. Jimmy and I were –“

  She wasn’t sure what to say and stumbled. The tears had again sprung into her eyes and were threatening to overtake her, but she knew she had to keep it together enough to talk to this woman.

  “We were going to be married,” she finally said, though it twisted her heart to think about his not-exactly-a-proposal and declaration of love, and the difficulties they experienced when trying to decide their future together that they would never have.

  The older woman looked back at her, eyebrows raised, unsure of how to respond. Maria continued, “Please, just let me stay the night. He didn’t have any family, and I’m leaving town in the morning. I don’t want his things to be tossed in a corner somewhere or thrown away.”

  She wiped away the tears starting in her eyes, her face feeling raw from the number of times she had performed that action. Mrs. Jessup’s look softened, and she nodded slightly. “Okay, you can stay for one night. Just keep to the room, if you don’t mind. I don’t need the boys causing a ruckus or my house getting a reputation.”

  Maria nodded and followed her into the house. As they climbed the stairs, the woman spoke over her shoulder to Maria. “Normally, I wouldn’t allow something like this, but he paid through the end of the week and I haven’t done anything with his things yet. Besides, he was a nice boy.”

  Maria didn’t respond—no response seemed necessary—but the small kindness seeped into her heart. Jimmy was always kind to everyone, even this somewhat severe landlady.

  At the top of the stairs, Maria hesitated for only a second before stepping into the room where Jimmy had stayed. The door closed slowly behind her, and she found herself alone in the small space, the deepening dusk creating a world of shadows. She found the small lantern from their excursion into the cave on a nearby table and lit it, banishing the darkness and allowing her to see the objects in the room.

  Slowly, she began to pick up objects on the washstand—his comb, a small metal daguerreotype of him as a child standing with his parents, a locket that once belonged to his mother. There was not much else in the room that belonged to him: his Sunday clothes and a small canvas bag were all that was left. She put his things into the canvas bag and took another look around. In no time at all, the room was no longer his. She didn’t know what to do next.

  Sleep was the only actual option. She unlaced her dress slightly, realizing she had nothing else to wear the next day. She stripped down into her undergarments, blew out the lantern she had lit only a few minutes before, and crawled onto the bed. She could still smell him there, and she allowed herself to wallow in her sadness before sleep overtook her.

  The next morning, she woke to the early morning rays of the sun on her face and breathed a heavy sigh, getting up and dressing only through sheer force of will. She had slept deeply, which helped, but she still felt mentally exhausted. She couldn’t let herself rest longer, however, as she needed to get Emma and to the coach before the morning wore on too much, and there were still a few last things she had to do.

  She left the house, making as little noise as possible to avoid disturbing the other inhabitants, carrying the small bag of Jimmy’s possessions.

  By ten o’clock, Mary had packed a single trunk with items she and Emma would need for a few days. Mr. Swenson and Josie would arrive with the rest of their things after that. She had also purchased seats with the post carriage that would be going to Redding that day. It was scheduled to leave at eleven, so Maria sat
down on a bench, holding Emma’s hand. Emma sat beside her, taking in all the sights with a little apprehension.

  Maria had been able thus far to keep Emma calm, but knew that too much change could cause a fit, so she constantly spoke to her in a soothing voice, explaining what they were doing and how they were going to live together. Emma probably understand only a small portion of what she said, but Maria felt that her voice would at the very least help, and the words calmed Maria’s own heart more than she would admit.

  “It will be so nice in Redding, Emma. We shall get a small house and live there together. I’ll take care of you, just like your mama wanted. Josie and her little girl will come to stay, and the four of us will have such a nice time together. We can be a family. This is going to be a good move. We will be fine.”

  She squeezed Emma’s hand slightly, and the younger girl giggled. Maria smiled at her. We’ll be fine, she silently repeated, feeling the strength and resolve within her pushing her away from Shasta and into this new life.

  After what felt like a very short time to Maria, they stood up and entered the coach that would take them to Redding.

  Jimmy’s right fist clenched and unclenched in a quick gesture of frustration at his arm’s loss of mobility, then he tried once again to put both hands on the table top. After some pain and maneuvering, he was able to get his left hand where he wanted it to be without needing to lift it with his right. It was nowhere near normal yet, but his pain had certainly diminished, and it was heartening to see the improvement.

  Now that both hands were where he wanted them, he held down one of the carrots in front of him and began to chop it into slices like Guadalupe had shown him. Her pieces were much more even and had been completed at a much faster pace, but she seemed appreciative of his help and he was happy to be doing something useful.

  Guadalupe walked in the door with a pail of water and scooped handfuls of the cut vegetable pieces, tossing them into the large pot already heating on the stove. The promise of stew wafted through the air, making the unpleasant heat bearable. “Smells good already,” commented Jimmy.